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Poet Tree
Poet Tree
I think, therefore iambic.
Give me a candle, bell and book
And I’ll set them in the middle
Of my personal pentameter.
i can’t keep up with
cummings and goings
what worked then
still works now
A Paradise Lost can be reclaimed.
Still in Dante’s Inferno, Bobby Burns,
Until kissed by an early Frost;
And still Poe folks read on.
We strive to walk in Plaths anew.
We rock to Maya Angelou,
But don’t forget our Leaves of Grass
Won’t fall far from the poet tree.
© Barton J. Breen 2000
